


No Rest for the Wicked

by T_Minus81



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Short & Sweet, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:41:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24938464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/T_Minus81/pseuds/T_Minus81
Summary: Joe Driscoll, once known to the world as Jesse Pinkman, deals with the unexpected challenges of getting on with his new life in Alaska. Can there be any hope for a real connection when he is haunted by his past? This is a short dramatic scene (written as a stage play), a snapshot exploring a moment of dashed hopes and lost love...
Relationships: Jesse Pinkman & Original Character(s), Jesse Pinkman/Other(s)
Kudos: 11





	No Rest for the Wicked

No Rest for the Wicked

_Setting: AMY’s bedroom. Around 6:00 am. Last night’s clothes haphazardly litter the floor around the unmade bed. JOE DRISCOLL (aka Jesse Pinkman) is sitting at the corner of the bed. JOE’s torso is covered in scars, all long-since healed. JOE and AMY both look tense. They look as though they’ve just woken up. There is a moment of awkward silence._

AMY: So, do you have nightmares like that a lot? I mean, like, cause some people have recurring… you know… I have a cousin who used to sleep-walk when he was a kid…

_AMY waits for JOE to say something, but he doesn't._

AMY: I’m just saying, it’s not a big deal, you know?

JOE: Is that the first time you’ve seen me do anything like that? Like, talk in my sleep and shit?

AMY: _(Hesitates for just a second)_ No.

JOE: _(Seems very stressed by this)_ Seriously?  
  


AMY: It's happened a few times. I mean, I thought of mentioning it, but… I don’t know… 

_She shrugs and looks at JOE, who seems to be thinking very hard about something._

AMY: Those other times weren’t like this, though. You were quieter. You would just mumble here and there for a bit and trail off. Either I couldn’t hear what it was or it just sounded like gibberish.

_JOE looks at her intently._

JOE: You couldn’t make out any actual words? Like, at all?

_AMY looks away, so JOE presses._

JOE: You would tell me, right?

AMY: It’s not like I was trying to listen, you know. It was kind of hard not to.

JOE: Amy. Please…

AMY: I mean… _(Thinks)_ You mumble stuff that sounds like “yeah” or “no”... One thing you’ve said a few times sounded like it could be a name, maybe. Like it could be Marshall Wyatt or Major White or something.

JOE: _(Closes his eyes and swallows)_ Okay.

AMY: And something else that sounded German, maybe. It sounded kind of like “Heimlich”, but not exactly.

_JOE takes this information in. AMY watches him think, trying to get a read._

JOE: That’s it?

AMY: _(Thinks)_ One time I’m pretty sure you said, “I’m sorry.” You mumbled some other stuff and just said, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” like, over and over again a few times. That was it.

JOE: _(Looks disturbed by this but speaks calmly)_ Okay.

AMY: You know, weird sleep behaviour can be caused by all kinds of shit. Dietary stuff, stress, hormones… You started a new job this week… You’re making way too big of a deal out of this.

_JOE nods, but doesn’t seem to be listening. AMY takes a breath._

AMY: I’m gonna make coffee.

_AMY exits. JOE takes a deep breath, makes a decision. He stands up and starts picking his clothes up off the floor and putting them on. His face is set in a stoic expression._

AMY: _(From the kitchen)_ You having some?

JOE: No thanks.

_He grabs a backpack and gathers up some things around the room. He grabs a sketchbook, quickly flips through it until he finds a certain page. He takes a moment to look at it, then tears it out and tucks it under the bedclothes. He shoves the book into his pack. AMY re-enters._

AMY: Are you leaving?

JOE: Yeah, I gotta go.

_JOE zips his backpack and heads toward the door. AMY, flustered, steps in to block his path._

AMY: Joe, wait! What the hell is up with you? For Christ’s sake! Will you just talk to me?

_JOE takes a second to steel himself._

JOE: Listen, I can’t do this.

AMY: Can’t do what? What do you—

JOE: I can’t see you anymore. Okay? This isn’t working.

AMY: Are you—fuck—Are you seriously dumping me because I heard you talking in your sleep?

JOE: It’s not that.

AMY: Dude, it so clearly IS that…

JOE: Look… I have a lot of…issues, okay?

AMY: Are you kidding me?

JOE: Like, real issues!

AMY: Do you think that’s news to me, Joe? You actually think I’m stupid enough to believe those scars all over you are from a car accident? I know what cigarette burns look like.

JOE: It’s not just— There’s more to it than that…

AMY: When you first came to work at the restaurant, you were always so jumpy… like a damn squirrel. I see the way you case a whole room as soon as you walk in. If you can help it you never sit with your back to an entrance.

JOE: _(Quiet, with admiration)_ Shit. You should have been a cop, you know?

AMY: You never, ever fail to wear that ratty-ass ball cap in town, but I never saw you wear it outside at your place. Not once. So it isn’t really so much about keeping the sun off, is it? Helps avoid eye contact when you want to, though. All that with the nightmares and the sleep-talking, I figure PTSD. Something like that.

JOE: That’s not why I have to—

AMY: I figured you would tell me about it eventually, I guess. Whenever the time was right.

JOE: Amy…

AMY: So, just tell me now. What is it? _(she looks intently at him, searching his face)_ What? Were you in the military, or…? Did you… do time?

_JOE takes another deep breath._

AMY: I don’t even care, okay? I don’t need to know. I just—I mean…this is a good thing. Right? The past few months… it’s… I thought it’s been good. Like, really good… Didn’t you think that?

JOE: _(Sighs)_ Better than good. You are so much… so much better than good. You’re the fucking best thing I’ve ever seen.

AMY: Then what the hell is going on here, Joe? Just tell me.

JOE: _(Turning away, speaking quietly and choosing his words)_ Look… It just isn’t safe. For you…

AMY: Not safe? _(Getting upset, voice rising)_ What the does that even mean? Because you had a bad dream? Because you talk in your fucking sleep? That somehow makes me not safe?

JOE: _(Snapping)_ Yes! That's what I'm saying, okay? Not safe! Because if you understood what even one of those words meant or what any of that shit was about, you would _—(He cuts himself off)_

AMY: Joe…

JOE: I gotta go. Bye, Amy.

_JOE hurries out the door. AMY is alone, looking stunned. She sinks onto the bed. Feeling something in the sheets, she fishes out the drawing JOE left there. She looks at it for a moment, then looks at the door and back again. Overcome, she bows her head and cries softly._


End file.
